


You Lied To Me

by storybycorey



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s07e22 Requiem, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 16:22:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6291538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storybycorey/pseuds/storybycorey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ficlet based on the prompt "You lied to me."</p><p>Her last precious few seconds with him are held captive in the spot between her brow and her hairline.  It’s unfair that a part of the body as mundane as her temple should be the one to possess that memory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Lied To Me

Her temple burns where his words last touched her skin. Each syllable still ingrained deep within her cells— “I-prom-ise-I’ll-come-home”. It had been the last part of her body to touch him. Her last precious few seconds with him are held captive in the spot between her brow and her hairline. It’s unfair that a part of the body as mundane as her temple should be the one to possess that memory.

Why couldn’t he have touched her hand? Her fingertips have soothed his hurts, they’ve borne his pain, they’ve wandered aimlessly over every last breathtaking inch of him. Just moments before, they’d cradled his neck, and the pulse of his heartbeat had melted into her palm. Why can’t her hand carry his memory instead?

Or her breasts. Why couldn’t he have touched her breasts last? With his soft, warm lips. Or his lithe, wet tongue. Why can’t the pinkened patch along the swell of her sternum be her final reminder? Of his heated breath, of the agonizingly sweet brush of his stubble against her hungry skin. It seems only fitting that her nipple, the one that will one day feed their child, should be the very last place he touched.

Or even her forehead. Just inches away. The spot that, until a few months ago, held all their secrets. Respect, then affection, then finally love—her forehead absorbed the entirety of his emotions for six long years. Before he’d been allowed access to her many other places. Why couldn’t he have whispered his last words into that sacred ground?

Or her lips. Lips that have held his greedy tongue, have swallowed his desperate moans. Have wrapped themselves around his steely sex, and worked him until he fell apart beneath her. The final kiss they shared had been chaste, ephemeral, nowhere close to what she deserved. Why couldn’t he have kissed her lips, just one more time? 

His bedspread is still rumpled from their last night together. The smell of their entangled bodies still lingers in its folds. His shirt is soft in her hands, yet also the most devastatingly hard thing she’s ever known. She lays down her head, and brings it to her temple. And she whispers, “You lied to me, Mulder.”


End file.
